monde à s'attacher aux objets de leurs passions, parce qu'elles lui procurent des plaisirs ineffables."

I have transcribed Saurin farther than I should have done, had I looked before me. I think the last sentence is ill expressed, if not ill conceived. The parallelism between worldly and spiritual pleasures is too close; and the application of the epithet, "ineffable," to the former, is monstrous. "What fruit had ye then, in those things, whereof ye are now ashamed?" said an incomparably deeper judge of human nature. The former part, however, of the passage, neither loses its truth, nor its value, by this crudity.

I have now said all I meant to say, on the subject of mysticism; and, finding myself in my tenth sheet, I begin to fear I have said a great deal more, than I ought to have said in a letter. I think it is my infirmity, that, when once in a subject, I know not how to extricate myself, until it ceases to hold me: I feel, also, for your disappointment when you open a packet, in expectation of receiving a review, and find only a letter. This consideration would almost restrain me from despatching these sheets, did I not think that my withholding them would imply still worse treatment. I can only commit myself to your patience, and to your good-nature. I acknowledge the subject

1 "Happy the believer, who, in his warfare with the enemies of his salvation, is able to oppose pleasures to pleasures, delight to delight! the pleasures of prayer and meditation, to the pleasures of the world; the delight of silence and retirement, to those of parties, of dissipation, of public amusement. Such a man is steady and unmoved in the performance of his duties, even because he is man; and a man cannot help loving, what opens to him sources of joy. Such a man is attached to religion, by motives like those, which lead men of the world to attach themselves to the objects of their passions, because they procure him unspeakable pleasures."

interested me; and led me, imperceptibly, much farther than I had an idea of, when I began my letter.

If you think it worth your while to make any remarks, on what I now trouble you with, they will be gratefully received by, my dear Sir,

Your very sincere and faithful servant,
ALEX. KNOX.

P.S. I am obliged to request that you will take care of this letter, as, from having no copy of it, I may be necessitated hereafter to reclaim it.

334

LETTER TO D. PARKEN, ESQ., IN ANSWER TO MR. PARKEN'S REPLY TO THE LETTER ON MYSTICISM.

MY DEAR SIR,

I was not at home when your letter arrived: I had the pleasure of finding it a day or two since, on my return from one of my usual visits, to my friends Mr. and Mrs. Peter La Touche. I now employ the first opportunity of disengaged time and thought, to tell you, that to hear from you gave me very sincere gratification.

I honestly acknowledge to you, I imagined you had given me up. And, on that supposition the note was written, which Joseph Butterworth put into your hands. I really did conclude my two letters were of so little interest to you, that I might ask for them, without occasioning to you the feeling of loss. I am now most pleasantly undeceived, and gladly give up the idea of reclaiming: my object may be attained in another way. When you place value on my letters, it would be ungrateful and unjust to deprive you of them.

You may think it strange that I made such an inference, and so rapidly, from your silence: but it is my nature to infer the worst; and Divine Providence has not allowed me to have confidence, in my power of engaging attention. I cannot pretend to say, from what direct cause it arises; but the fact is, that, in almost every instance in which I can be gratified, some degree of despair, and, of course, necessity for the internal act of relinquishment, has, at least, temporary place in my feelings. I doubt

not, temporary only, when the gratification is really valuable. I am confident every thing is allowed to me, which is really for my good: but, in proportion as it is pleasant, I have almost ever to bear, for a time, the imaginary loss of the pleasure. As I said, I know not the direct cause of this almost uniform occurrence: perhaps my own tendency to fear, is enough to account for it; but sure it is, that circumstances apt to excite such fear, almost always appear. These impress me the more, as I have a strong, though I hope not fanciful, belief, of a particular providence; and also, as I conceive, these temporary disappointments, have had a salutary effect on my mind; teaching me, in a small measure, the lesson of St. Paul, οἶδα καὶ ταπεινοῦσθαι, οἶδα καὶ περισσεύειν. 1 The very little I have attained of this knowledge, I am indebted for, to the providential discipline (for such I cannot but deem it) just mentioned: indebted, I mean, subordinately to that immediate influence, called grace, († xάpıs,) which, in my creed, is paramount to all instrumentality, or mediate agency. Let me assure you, that your wish to have my thoughts, and, still more, your thinking it worth while to examine them with closeness, are to me very gratifying circumstances. I know nothing in my own condition, which I can think of with regret, except the fewness of those I find, who are disposed to think with intensity. From several, I can obtain a hearing; but, from very few indeed, can I obtain the benefit of being ransacked and sifted. I am ready to hope, that some of my conceptions, may be not wholly useless: but I can have no assurance of this, until they pass the trial of

1 Phil iv. 12. I know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound.

other minds, which can have none of that prejudice, that may be in mine. Judge, then, how interesting it is to me, to receive such remarks, as are contained in your last letter. When you are so kindly disposed to employ, both your reasoning, and criticising faculties, on what I write, you are in no danger of long wanting communications. I first wish to advert to your desire of using the letter respecting mysticism; and my answer is, make any use of it, in any way your judgment directs, which will be consistent with my making use of it, in any way I may find expedient, hereafter. I am obliged to make this reserve, as I know not what future occasion I may have to revert to that subject; and I love to secure to myself the most unfettered liberty. I hope this limitation will not, in any measure, jar with your purpose: if it does not, my thoughts are completely at your service.

Your "verbal criticism," was most necessary, and is most just. "Whole attention" is precisely what it should have been the truth is, that, through frailty of memory, while I am writing this sentence, the last has (often) disappeared. I only wonder, you have not had occasion to point out a great many similar incoherences. From the same cause, I find it morally impossible for me to say at this moment, what I could wish, respecting my strictures on Fénelon. My observations can be made only at random. I have no copy of what I wrote; and particulars I forget.

I would say, in general, 1. that I never meant to question the vitality of Fénelon's piety; nor consequently a softening in practice, of that, which, in his theory, appeared most hard. There is a vis medicatrix in the moral, as well as in the physical consti